Wolf's-own: Koan

by Carole Cummings

  Samin lurched to his feet, scanning the perimeter again, but there was only darkness and silence but for Fen's bootheels on the cobbles. Samin would never catch up to Fen. There was only one way to stop him.

  "Fen! Malick's wards will have gone with him.” Fen kept running, so Samin notched up his shout, went for the low blow: “Your brothers, Fen! There's nothing protecting them now! You have to protect your brothers!"

  It worked. Fen stopped, just as he was reaching the end of the street and Samin would've lost him in the shadows. He just stood there for several long moments, body rigid, knives two low glimmers at his sides in the dark. Samin watched him, the heat of Malick's self-inflicted makeshift pyre crawling up his backbone with something that didn't feel at all like warmth. With a hard shudder Samin could see even at a distance, Fen cocked his head up at the moons, let loose a wavering cry that sounded too close to an animal trapped in the bottom of a deep, dark well, then spun back around and headed toward the inn.

  * * * *

  Xari jolted from her seat on the fountain's wall, snapping herself up with a small cry that nonetheless wrenched in her chest with a sharp jag of....

  It was gone. Leaving her wondering what the hell had just happened.

  Pain. Grief, perhaps. Very definitely anger, but... she couldn't tell, and the feel of it was fleeting past her like a fine mist of someone else's memory. It had nearly choked her only a second ago, and now she couldn't even remember what it had been.

  And yet nonetheless, she knew.

  "Foolish, foolish, foolish,” she hissed. “Warned you, I did."

  Teeth set, Xari stalked across the sward and through the garden, angling past the incense altars and up the steps to the temple. Imara met her halfway up them, on her way down in somewhat of a hurry, which didn't surprise Xari in the least. Even the worry on Imara's face couldn't stop the snarl from blooming on Xari's.

  "Told you, I did!” Xari snapped. “Lessons to teach, and children to chide, but Kamen will not be the one to suffer for this. Unfathomable damage you do to the Incendiary, and who will achieve Wolf's goals for him now?"

  "Let me be, Xari,” said Imara, not quite as calm and sure of herself as she'd been the last time they'd talked. “I'm going now to—"

  "Yes, go, go, try to mend that which you've just allowed to be broken. Perfect he is not, but only the Sorcerer can take Zero and make One of him, and you have just allowed the Fool's shelter to perish. Go! Hie you now to the Incendiary, before the break in his heart shatters his mind!"

  There was no satisfaction as Xari took in Imara's stunned gaze, the anxiety on her face, nor was there any in her silence as she dissolved into shadow and was gone. Xari just stood there a moment, seething at the spot where Imara had been, fists balled tight and breath coming faster than it should be.

  "Now we see,” she muttered, and she slanted an angry glare up at Wolf. “Now we see what your Incendiary is made of.” She shook her head, not even a little bit repentant of her blasphemy. She was Wolf's-own now and she had to obey; she didn't have to approve. She shifted her glance to Raven. “I pray he proves more than even you guessed.” And then she found the hint of jade in the sky where Owl lurked. “The time approaches when all must make a stand. Pray you watch your brother's back."

  She shook her head and went back to her cards.

  * * * *

  Shig knew what it was. She'd been cut off from the spirits, perhaps, but she didn't suppose there could be such a thing as a complete severance, not when they'd been so deep inside her, and she in them, for so long. Like a phantom limb that could still ache.

  She recognized the thick, fleeting pulse that swamped her. She only jolted a little, but otherwise stayed still, listening, reaching out and grasping for more. Blind and deaf, groping, but she caught the thin film of awareness and let her cards fall to the table, shut her eyes. It was a shit hand, anyway.

  It was late and she was tired, and didn't much feel like keeping Joori and Morin distracted so they wouldn't twig to what their brother was up to, and so that she could at least try to protect them if there was trouble. Though if someone managed to get through Malick's wards and came after them, she had no idea what Malick expected her to do about it. Her questionable “skill” with a blade wasn't going to amount to much in the face of magic. Especially not any magic strong enough to get past Malick.

  So, what now, bright little niijun?

  Shig reflexively brushed at her hair, reminding herself to freshen the colors sometime soon. She kept meaning to go out and explore the city some more, and she kept not doing it.

  What will you do, now that your pack's Alpha has lost his fangs?

  Not a spirit-voice, her own voice, she knew that. Filling in the blank spaces where once she'd had to be very careful to control the flow, not allow too many in at once, pick through the comprehension that poured into her and decide which parts of it to use. Merely her own thoughts now, disguising themselves, a strange comfort-anguish, because she couldn't tell anymore how much of it came from actual knowing. For all she knew, she might be fooling herself just as determinedly as Fen was, because Shig had her own ghost at her edges, and talking to her dead sister didn't make Shig much saner than Fen.

  "What?” Joori's tone was mildly concerned. “Something wrong?"

  Oh, yeah. Something was most definitely very wrong.

  Damn you, Malick. Not now

  Shig ignored Joori, let the sentient rustle ripple through her, and refused the rise of tears. Not tears of mourning—she knew better than that. More like fear. Loss of direction that had been perhaps uncertain anyway, but it had at least been something in this directionless new existence. Fen was so sure Shig had no idea what twisty things went through his head, but she'd latched on to Malick's coattails almost as desperately as Fen had, because she was just as disoriented. And now that guidance was gone, dubious and almost unwilling though it had been. Temporarily gone, sure, but gone, and anything could happen in the in-between.

  Temporary? Are you sure?

  Not her voice this time, not a spirit-voice, either, at least not the kind she knew. Alien. Invasive. Almost like Yori's but not quite hitting all the right nuances. Too... thick, too something. Like someone was trying to be Yori, and couldn't get it exactly right, missing inflections and tones by that much, and in ways only Shig would know, because no one had known Yori better than Shig.

  It gave her a weird, unnerving hope. Because if she could hear this voice, regardless of its almost-malice, almost-consolation, perhaps the spirits weren't entirely lost to her, after all.

  Yes, she told it, a bit of an inner snarl. I'm sure.

  Malick would be back. Not for her, and not for Samin, but it wouldn't matter. He'd be back for Fen, and probably sooner than whoever had killed his body expected, because this was Malick, and he wasn't finished with Fen yet. Shig didn't think Malick would ever be finished with Fen.

  "Shig.” Joori again, and a soft rustle accompanied by a quiet ruffle of cards told Shig his abrupt anxiety had stirred Morin. “Is something wrong?"

  Tell him, little niijun, child of light and color.

  Shig almost smiled. Niijun. Rainbow. Because she'd appeared to the “eyes” of the spirits as a band of colors, given them something they saw as corporeal and longed-for when she walked with them, and they'd rewarded her with... well, pretty much everything she asked them for.

  The guide-star lost tonight did not shine only for you. The Void will need all sources now, else lose the light entirely and collapse in on itself.

  Now the tears almost came. The Void. Because they couldn't see Fen, but sometimes they could sense him, and sometimes the disjointed, tortured cries of his own spirit were louder and more incoherent than the Ancestors'. It made even the spirits reject him, in their strange, ephemeral way.

  Poor Fen.

  Shig opened her eyes, thought about putting on a reassuring smile, but what was the point? Joori wouldn't care that something happened to Malick—in fact, he'd probably be n
ot-so-secretly pleased—and Morin neither needed nor wanted that kind of fake comfort. Joori might deceive himself into living on bread and hope, just like Fen deceived himself into living for everyone but himself, but Morin wouldn't be fooled—not by himself or anyone else.

  "Malick's gone to spirit,” Shig said calmly. She waited through the confused frowns, the delayed realization, the bit of calculation in Joori's gaze and the narrowing of Morin's. “He went out to hunt, and he won't be coming back tonight."

  They were both silent for several long moments, just staring, stunned, before Morin narrowed his eyes. “What about Jacin?” he asked, like he didn't really want to, but someone had to.

  Joori's eyes snapped over to his brother. “What about him?” He shot a panicked glare at Shig. “Jacin wouldn't have gone. He doesn't do that anymore, and he can't even.... He's across the hall, sleeping.” His jaw set as he stood. “Right?"

  Shig only sighed. Sometimes, knowing what drove him wasn't enough, when it came to dealing with Joori. He was good, Shig had never doubted it, he had a good heart, he meant well, but he stumbled and flailed worse than Malick did when it came to Fen. It never mattered that he only ever wanted to make things better for his brother, because he always managed to somehow make it all worse.

  It was the anger that got in the way of it all. The betrayal. Joori would never forgive his brother for stepping in front of Malick's sword, making Joori see how little Fen really thought of his own life, of his own self, making Joori see how much Fen really cared for Malick, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. Nor would Joori ever forgive Malick for being the one who'd been holding the sword.

  And Joori would never, ever admit any of it. Especially not to himself.

  Yori would've been so good for him. Yori would've kept him in line.

  Shig swallowed away the lump in her throat. “You should probably sit back down,” she told Joori softly, evenly. “It might not be safe anymore."

  Joori's brow creased down, and his lips thinned. “Is he still out there? Did Malick drag him out to kill people?” He leaned in, teeth set tight. “Did he give my brother a weapon?"

  Shig saw no reason to answer any of that, so she didn't. All of the answers would come soon enough, and Joori could bash himself against someone else once he got them. Samin, probably, because Samin had developed a weird tendency to step between Fen and Joori when Joori pushed Fen too hard, and anyway, he was built to take it better than Shig was. Joori could whack himself against Mount Samin for years and never even make a dent.

  "He's not a child, y'know,” Morin put in. “You can't keep him in some kind of bubble forever.” Not snarky, and not derisive. Matter-of-fact and calm, because Morin watched, Morin listened—a lot more than he talked—and Shig suspected he saw just as much as she did. Maybe more. He was male, after all—he'd understand how the testosterone-addled mind worked better than she would.

  Joori rounded on Morin. “You want to give him a knife and see what happens?"

  "For pity's sake.” Morin sighed this time, then rolled his eyes. “This is Jacin we're talking about, Joori. If he truly wanted to kill himself, do you really think he couldn't have made a weapon out of a cake of soap by now? Hung himself with a set of bedsheets?"

  Shig jolted a little. It was so close to what Malick had snarled at her earlier.

  Morin shook his head, something in his face very close to pity when he looked at Joori. “Maybe he's not right in the head, but he's not a moron."

  Joori didn't seem to have anything to say to that. Which apparently only pissed him off more. A little snarl curled at his mouth, and he jerked away from the table and started for the door.

  "I wouldn't do that, if I were you,” Shig told him mildly, just as Joori's hand landed on the doorknob.

  To his credit, Joori paused and peered at Shig over his shoulder with a scowl. “I'm going across the hall to check on my brother. Who is in bed, sleeping, and not out killing people.” He hesitated, some of the anger draining out of his expression and turning a bit soft. “He probably won't take this well. I should be there."

  "And break it to him gently?” Shig lifted her eyebrows. “You really think he'll believe you?” Joori opened his mouth, but Shig waved off whatever he was going to say. “You don't fool me, and you won't fool him. You're not sorry Malick's out of your way, if only for a little while, and I doubt you can even see all the reasons why you should be, let alone admit it. If you're a smart little rabbit, you won't let your brother see any of it."

  She'd been expecting more snarls, an angry outburst. So she was a little surprised when Joori's expression turned hurt, genuinely taken aback.

  "You really think I'm that cold?” he asked, like he honestly wanted to know, though Shig wouldn't even dream of actually answering. “I don't hate Malick, I never did. But I know what we are to him, I know what Jacin is to him. And someone has to be there to put Jacin back together once Malick's through with him."

  Shig thought about that very carefully, because again, it was all too close to what she'd snarled at Malick only hours ago. “And what makes you so sure that someone should be you?” she finally ventured. Because she really wanted to know.

  Joori snorted, hollow and humorless. “You know, sometimes I really feel bad for you, because I think you miss your spirits so much that you try to pretend you still have them.” He shook his head. “And sometimes I think you're just a clueless bitch."

  He threw the door open then slammed it shut behind him. Shig only stared after him for a few seconds, stung. That one had hurt. And she wasn't even sure which part.

  "He was out with Malick,” Morin said into the silence. “Wasn't he?"

  Shig sighed, slouched down in her chair and shut her eyes. “Yeah,” she said.

  The silence stretched out, so quiet they could hear Joori rapping softly on the door across the hall. Shig couldn't tell if she was relieved or not when Morin finally broke it.

  "Is Jacin all right?"

  "All right” was such an inclusive phrase. Shig didn't waste breath on all of the ways that Fen was profoundly not “all right."

  "Even if I still had the spirits, I wouldn't be able to tell. You can't find Fen with magic. I only know about Malick because I think he found a way to tell me.” Shig opened her eyes, let Morin see the apology in her gaze and shrugged. “For all I know, Fen's the one who killed him."

  There was no shock at the speculation, no swift denial, like there would've been with Joori. Morin's mouth twisted a little, and he slumped, but that was all. He thought about it for a while, turned and looked at the door when Joori's knocking grew in both insistence and volume, then shook his head at Shig.

  "No. Not unless he's lost himself completely.” Morin sighed, rubbed at his eyes. “In which case, the only one who'll be coming back is Samin. Unless he got in Jacin's way."

  A little shudder rippled through Shig at the truth of it. Leave it to Morin to say the things that no one wanted to acknowledge but everyone needed to hear.

  Just like you used to, little niijun. Have your colors dulled so much beneath the weight of your corporeal bondage?

  Corporeal bondage. It sounded so... melodramatic, but it felt pretty much exactly right. Maybe that was why Joori's parting shot had stung as it had. She did miss the spirits, crazy bastards that they were. She missed Yori. She missed Umeia. She missed the life she'd had before she'd ever heard the name “Fen.” And now she missed Malick and every bit of Fen's equilibrium that he'd no doubt taken with him.

  She missed being little niijun.

  Perhaps it was time to start figuring out who she was now. Perhaps a visit to the temple would do her some good.

  Shig toyed with the ends of her hair, mouth turned down in a bit of a grimace. Perhaps it was time for some new dye.

  "We should get out more,” she said, picking at the corners of the cards on the table with her fingernail. “See the city, visit the temples.” They were, after all, in the very birthplace of the gods. She'd been within walki
ng distance of answers and direction for almost two weeks now, and hadn't been able to make herself do a damned thing about it, not even when Malick cajoled her, sweet and imposing all at once, as only Malick could be. And now that Malick was gone.... Well. She did at least need some dye.

  Shig wiped at her eyes, though they weren't wet, so that was something. With a sigh, she peered up, noted Morin staring at her with a half-amused glint in his hazel eyes and a tiny curl to his lip. Shig raised her eyebrows in question.

  Morin only shook his head and chuffed a tiny snort. “Sometimes you're so weird."

  * * * *

  Damn it, he had no idea how to pick a lock. Joori growled, pounded on Jacin's door some more, but refrained from shouting through it. It was the middle of the night, and the inn was full. He didn't need some angry foreigner shouting at him in words he couldn't understand, and he didn't need that dour innkeeper throwing them out. Though, now that Malick was apparently... not dead, but whatever it was Temshiel were when their mortal bodies died—now that Malick wasn't here, Joori couldn't help wondering how the hell they were going to pay for their rooms. Cold, yes, like Shig had accused, but someone had to think of these things.

  He pounded again, clamped his eyes shut tight, and laid his brow to Jacin's door. Jacin was in there. He had to be. He just didn't want to answer, that was all. He hadn't been out with Malick, because Jacin didn't kill people just because. He only killed the ones who'd destroyed their family, and that was only because he'd had no choice, but they were all gone now. He wasn't the assassin Asai had made him, he wasn't anything Asai had made him, because if he kept being what Asai had made him, that would mean Asai still had some kind of hold on him, and....